


part of a matched set

by straddling_the_atmosphere



Series: the adventures of ares and dog [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ares the Chow Chow, Dog the mutt, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straddling_the_atmosphere/pseuds/straddling_the_atmosphere
Summary: Flint hates thunderstorms, especially when they lead to finding a disobedient tripod dog and her equally as untrained owner, John Silver.





	part of a matched set

**Author's Note:**

> flint has a chow chow, accept this in your heart and know it to be true

Flint hates thunderstorms. Lightning flashes in the sky, illuminating the dark kitchen. Seconds later, crashing thunder follows it. Ares whines softly at his feet, his wet nose pressing against Flint’s bare calves for a brief moment before the chow chow heaves himself up onto his paws, shaking out his russet-colored fur.

Flint looks down to watch as he makes his way into the living room and under the armchair where he always goes during a thunderstorm, just the tuft of his tail visible from where he’s standing.

Another thunderclap booms and the lights go out, leaving Flint in darkness. He can hear the soft sound of Ares’s tail thumping against the floor and he makes his way over to him, settling down next to him and petting behind his ear.

Ares pants softly, blue-pink tongue hanging out, and Flint watches the rain splatter against the windows, turning the street lamp outside into some sort of smeared watercolor painting, blurry and out of focus.

They sit in silence for a while, letting the darkness of the room wash over them, occasionally interrupted by brief flashes of white light and deep, shuddering booms that make Ares whine. Flint’s watch reads nearly midnight when there’s the screeching sound of car tires skidding and a loud yelp, and he’s on his feet, digging around for his boots. Ares whines louder but doesn’t move, watching him intently, and Flint leaves with one final pat to his head, throwing the door open and squinting in the rain.

On the ground, a dog struggles to get up. Flint’s mind whites out with panic for a moment when he sees that the dog’s back leg is missing, but once it’s up, it moves like it’s used to living on three legs. Flint kneels down and whistles softly and the dog’s ears prick, head swiveling to look at him. It’s some kind of collie mix, maybe sheep dog, though it’s so wet and bedraggled from the storm that it’s impossible to tell as it trots over to him, tail wagging. He catches it by the collar, noting with some relief that there are tags, but he’s more focused on getting it inside and clean.

Ares perks his ears up when Flint comes back in, a soft growl deep in his throat.

“Shut up,” Flint says, mild but fond, and Ares quiets, eyeing the new dog with wariness. The dog shakes itself-- _herself_ \--Flint corrects in his head as he wraps her in a towel and she wags her tail.

“Who are you?” Flint murmurs, checking her tags. There’s no name, but there is a phone number and address and Flint snorts when he realizes that whoever she is, she lives just across the street. The dog wiggles happily, licking Flint’s cheek, and Flint can see now that she’s some sort of cross, with bright eyes and a grey and white coat.

Ares makes his way over to sniff her and Flint watches warily, ready to pull him away at any moment, but Ares simply growls once and then lays back down, letting the dog sniff him all over.

“Alright,” Flint says with a sigh. “Let’s get you home.” The dog weaves her way around Flint’s legs like a cat and Flint scratches behind her ear, clipping a leash onto her collar.

Thunder booms again and the dog licks Ares’s ear, stopping the whine that had been building in his throat. Flint watches in surprise as his dog relaxes, those leonine yellow eyes closing as his tail thumps once, then twice, before stopping.

He glances one last time at Ares before he tugs his jacket on and opens the door, squinting out at the rain. The trip across the street to the student-rented flats is a long wet one, and by the time he makes it to the correct door he can feel his socks squelching in his shoes.

Flint gets a quick glimpse at wild curly hair when the door swings open before the man crouches down.

“ _Dog_ ,” he says with audible relief and the dog launches herself in his arms, wet fur and all, and he buries his fingers tightly inside the scruff of her coat. “Thank fuck,” he breathes. Then he looks up and Flint finds himself staring into bright blue eyes that come closer as the man stiffly stands up.

“Come in!” he says cheerfully. “Can’t have my dog’s rescuer catching the cold. I’m John Silver, by the way.”

Flint squints at him but he steps inside. The place is messy, clearly lived-in, and dog toys litter the floor. “Flint,” he grunts. “Did you call your dog ‘Dog’?” he asks, carefully toeing his shoes off so he doesn’t drag puddles along his floor.

“That’s her name,” Silver says from the kitchen, clearly rummaging through something.

“You named your dog Dog?”

Silver comes over with a bottle of beer and hands it to Flint in the same movement that he takes Flint’s coat, leaving Flint a little unsure of how he got the bottle in his hand. He didn’t think this was going to be some kind of _visit_.

“It just stuck.” Silver openly grins at him and Flint studiously ignores the way Silver’s broad hands look holding the beer, a silver ring glinting on his pinky. “Didn’t it, Dog?” he says and Dog skids over on the hardwood, butting into Flint’s legs. He grunts but reaches down automatically to pat her back. Silver watches him.

“Let me give you some money,” he says after a moment. “For bringing her back.”

“No.” Flint shakes his head. “I live across the street--it wasn’t a hassle. My dog heard her barking.”

Silver’s face lights up and he holds out his hand demandingly. “Well, you can’t just say you have a dog and then not show me a picture.”

Flint doesn’t know why he does it--he doesn’t even _know_  Silver, but he pulls out his phone and hands it to him. The background is a picture of Ares panting on Miranda’s porch in the summer and Silver actually, honest-to-god, coos.

“What’s his name?” he asks.

“Ares.”

Silver snorts. “That is the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard.”

Flint’s anger spikes. “Your dog is named Dog--I don’t think you’re in a position to judge.”

“Ares! God of war! Fitting for a dog with hair as red as his master’s then.” Silver says as he smirks and sips his beer. Flint narrows his eyes.

“At least I properly named him,” he grumbles and looks at Dog down at Silver’s feet, her tail thumping. Flint’s attention is drawn to the plastic sheen of one of Silver's legs, and when he looks up Silver gives him a paper thin smile.

“We match,” he says, nudging Dog with his prosthetic. Dog’s tail thumps hard on the ground and her tongue lolls out, giving her a friendly, lopsided sort of grin.

”Where did you get her?” He asks after a moment and something flashes across Silver’s face, fast as his name.

”That seems more like second-date kind of talk, don’t you think?”

Flint scowls. “This isn’t a date.”

Silver puts a hand to his chest, offended. “I was talking about Dog and Ares, of course!” His mouth curves into a slow smirk, unfairly attractive under the close-cropped beard. Flint does not look at it. “If you’re on a date with me, you’ll know it.”

Flint feels his ears heat and he swigs the rest of his beer to avoid Silver’s gaze, then puts it down on the table. 

“I have to go,” he says brusquely. “My dog is scared of thunderstorms.”

Silver nods, blue eyes intent on Flint’s. Flint hasn’t felt this studied since...He swallows, pushing down that thought, and holds out his hand for his phone.

”I put my number in,” Silver says cheerfully. “Ares and Dog need a repeat play-date, I think.”

Flint nearly closes his eyes, annoyance simmering in his chest. “He hates other dogs, so I don’t think so.”

Silver just hands Flint his coat, patting his shoulder.

”I don’t know, Mr. Flint,” he says with that irreverent smile. “Dog and I are hard not to like.”

When Flint gets home, Ares is curled up on his customary spot at the foot of the bed. He lifts his head up when Flint sits down heavily and pets him, fingers running through the soft chestnut fur. 

“I don’t think that’ll be the last time we see those two,” he murmurs softly, sounding resigned. Ares just gives him a baleful look and Flint sighs in agreement. “I know.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully the first in quite a few ficlets in this universe


End file.
